My Babies, My Love

Chapter 158

After muttering to herself, Patricia finally noticed the man sitting at the desk.

He was the same as ever—his black bespoke suit and sharp, chiseled features all adding to his

imposing air.

When Isaac looked over to her, she swiftly averted her gaze and set her purse down at her seat

before starting up her computer.

She checked the schedule written in her notebook and compared it to the schedule in the system,

making sure they were the same.

Isaac had been very busy lately. His days were filled with meetings, along with business lunches

and dinners. He was probably working overtime to make time for his engagement next Saturday.

Isaac watched as Patricia kept herself busy from the moment she stepped into his office. All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“My coffee, Miss Aniston,” he reminded coldly before going back to his work.

Patricia stood up. “I’ll bring it in at once.”

Her cold and distant attitude made Isaac glance at her once more.

Why does it seem like she’s in a bad mood today? Didn’t she see the text I sent her last night?

After stepping out of Isaac’s office, Patricia was once again the center of the spotlight. All eyes

were on her as she walked over to the pantry, and when the women finally stopped staring, they

gathered together in hushed discussion.

Say whatever you want. Patricia could not be bothered.

She walked into Isaac’s private pantry. No one else was around. She prepared a cup of coffee and

added a splash of milk, but a cheeky smile bloomed across her face.

She pursed her lips and tossed three cubes of sugar into the cup.

Since you don’t like adding sugar, let’s see how you like this!

She carried it back to the office and set the cup down in front of him.

“Your coffee, Mr. Arnold.”

Isaac glanced up at her. One look at her face and anyone could tell that she was in a bad mood

today.

“Did you not sleep well last night, Miss Aniston?”

Her face was aloof, her lips were pursed, and she did not look him in the eye. These were all signs

that pointed to her being angry.

Patricia shook her head. “I slept very well.”

You’re the one who didn’t sleep well, you scoundrel!

The more he looked at her, the more he felt like something was amiss. When he took a sip of

coffee, his expression changed at once.

“Miss Aniston, didn’t I tell you not to add sugar?”

She must have done it on purpose! Is she jealous because of my engagement?

“Mr. Arnold, don’t you think it tastes better when it’s sweet?” Patricia commented icily.

She became even more furious when she remembered the marks on her chest. You pervert!

Just how hard did he go at it that her skin ended up looking like that?

Isaac could tell that she was doing it on purpose, so he drank another mouthful of coffee, though it

tasted more like syrup.

“Mmhmm. It’s very sweet. Not bad at all.”

There was a flash of surprise in Patricia’s eyes when she saw that he did not get angry.

Was it because he was in a good mood over his engagement? Was that why he let her off the

hook so easily?

She was still fuming, however, so she glared at him.

“Mr. Arnold, care to explain how those marks ended up on my chest? The truth, this time.”

A devilish look crept into Isaac’s eyes as he gazed at her chest. He felt something stirring inside

him.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he asked, “What do you think?”

Did she find out what happened? Who told her?

Just then, he recalled that she mentioned making a trip to the hospital last night. Could it be that

she told Darcie about it? Darcie probably did know a thing or two about these things.

After all, she worked in a nightlife establishment and seemed like the type who knew how to have

a good time, so she probably could tell from her own experiences.

Patricia was nothing like her. Why does she not know anything at all, even after giving birth to

three children? She’s still so naive.

Meanwhile, Patricia was up to her ears in anger when she spotted Isaac’s smug expression.

She threw caution to the wind and huffed, “Hmph! Mr. Arnold, I have a strong suspicion that certain

parts of you are just for show—non-functional, that is.”